


you're the only one i always knew

by felixfvlicis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 19:29:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8173186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felixfvlicis/pseuds/felixfvlicis
Summary: Set during 'Deathly Hallows Part II'.  Draco-centric, Draco's POV.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by [this Tumblr post.](http://leighway.tumblr.com/post/13061740021/let-me-get-this-straight-or-not-rather) I've had this particular idea in my head for a few days, and I simply couldn't shake it. The fact that this was written in the script at one point? WHAT.
> 
> This is my first ever Harry / Draco fic, and I'm genuinely terrified to post it, because I have read some AMAZING work -- stories by authors that I will never be able to contend with. However, I've fallen in love with these characters, and needed an outlet for my thoughts. Thus, this story.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. ♥ xoxo.

“Draco.Come.” Narcissa’s command travels across the remains of the Hogwarts courtyard, her voice tight and frail, as if calling her son’s name one last time will be her undoing.Draco casts a vacant look in her direction and swallows, his throat thick with ash, before his eyes shift right, eyeing Hagrid cradling a limp Harry Potter against his chest.

 

Draco’s breathing stills as he steps forward, mechanically placing one foot in front of the other.“Harry Potter is dead!” he hears the Dark Lord roar.His eyes squeeze shut and he exhales once, a long, heavy, breath. _Sectumsempra.Sectumsempra.Sectum—._ By the time Draco reaches his mother’s side, he swears he can almost feel Potter’s residual magic pulsing through the X slash across his chest, trailing along his abdomen — little pops and stings that die on contact. 

 

_“If we die for them, Harry, I’m going to kill you!”_

 

Weasley’s warning-laced words are echoing in Draco’s head, thumping like a steady beat rattling his insides.Draco knows the Dark Lord is speaking, he sees Longbottom awkwardly limp forward, dragging his right leg behind him.All he can focus on is Potter, sodding Gryffindorian hero.His glasses are cracked and askew, lines of dirt and blood are caked on his face, and yet …

 

He looks unburdened, as if he’s shuffling about onto platform nine and three quarters on a musty August afternoon, pushing his trunk with Hedwig caged beside him, as if his Nimbus is floating along an autumn breeze, his smile slow and warm, clutching the golden snitch in the palm of his hand.

 

Weasley’s words echo louder in Draco’s mind now.He swallows, gagging on ash remnants from the Room of Requirement.His body pressed up against Potter’s back, his sweat-laced palms clutching the front of Potter’s shirt as the fiendfyre brushed the ends of their robes, nearly entrapping them with the Dark Lord’s bloody diadem horcrux.

 

_“Nice face, Potter.”_ Draco spat vehemently, kicking him square in the nose with his scuffed black boot, before tossing Potter’s invisibility cloak back on top of him and stalking off.He blinks at the memory, tears prickling his eyes, body still limp against his mother’s chest.Despite everything he’s seen, everything he’s done, he still wants — needs — Potter to be the Boy Who Lived … again.He needs to know that this isn’t the Astronomy Tower, where he stood, with shaking hands and red-rimmed eyes, wand pointed squarely at Dumbledore, wordlessly begging for a way out through a tight jaw, stifled sobs and clenched teeth.He needs to know that this isn’t the Malfoy Manor dining room table, where the Dark Lord levitated Charity Burbage as she searched Snape’s icy gaze, looking for _Severus_ as tears caking her hollowed cheeks before helplessly surrendering to Nagini. 

 

Draco shivers and inhales.Narcissa tightens her grip against his shoulder blades, though he can hardly feel her touch.In this moment, there’s nothing in his mind except the repetitious echo of _‘Potter, Potter, Potter’_.Though he recognizes the sound, the name sounds foreign to his ears as the hissing flows from the depths of his mind, swimming through his veins, seeping, coiling, rumbling underneath the Dark Mark.Parseltongue.Potter. 

 

_Bloody hell._

 

Potter’s eyes flutter open and he slides out of Hagrid’s arms, catching himself before he hits the concrete, his wand drawn.He looks murderous and almost disappointed to be here, once again amongst the living, but Draco can’t bring himself to care.  Wrestling out of his mother’s grip, he sprints across the remnants of the courtyard, cobblestones clicking and crumbling under his feet.

 

“Potter!” Draco screams, or tries to, but whatever he manages to voice is broken by huffed sobs.

 

Again.

 

“Potter!” Draco’s whispering now, Harry’s name is caught in his throat, tangled with ash remnants and thick saliva, forming a bubble around his words. 

 

_Harry._ _Harry Potter._ The Boy Who Lived _Again_.

 

“POTTER!” Draco manages in a half-sob, before being halted by the Dark Lord’s wand against his adams’s apple.He’d only made it a few feet. 

 

“Stupid, stupid boy,” the Dark Lord hissed, the severe point of his fingernail tracing the left side of Draco’s face, “you’re more of a coward than your father.”

 

Draco flits his gaze to the left, then looks over the Dark Lord’s shoulder at Potter.His eyes flash with surprise, and something like regret as the Dark Lord rolls those first syllables off of his tongue.

 

_Avada—_

 

Draco gasps as Lucius steps in front of him, nose-to-nose with the Dark Lord.His eyes reflect steady waves of blue as he inhales deeply, resigned to his fate.

 

_Kedavra._

 

Draco drops to his knees with a gut-wrenching, blood-curdling sob, his fingers clawing at his eyes.The Dark Lord has yet to take his eyes off of him, his thin, crackled lips forming a smile which is followed by a loud chorus of laughter.

 

“He was mine to finish, boy!” the Dark Lord spits — his voice thick with the same tone that reminded Draco of how he’d spoken to Potter on the train once he’d found him.Hearing it now, directed at him, makes him ache to take it back.Draco hunches further into himself, not daring to meet the Dark Lord’s gaze. 

 

Suddenly, Draco’s breath hitches as he feels a stinging pop of magic against the criss-crossed scar on his chest. 

 

_Harry._

 

His squeezes his eyes shut and waits.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
